The Signs of Destruction
by KnightAmemait
Summary: Written for phisho's rank contest on the P.U.F.F. site. RoZ spoilers, but I've had my own conspiracy theories about Mr. Mitchell since I read LCoF. Technically a oneshot, but I'm leaving the door open.


JK: This one contains RoZ spoilers, but only if you look closely. I've had my own theories about Mr. Mitchell since I first read the books, however.

Written for phisho's Rank Contest on the P.U.F.F. website. Wish me luck!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Pendragon Adventure. That is © D.J. MacHale. I'm just playing in his garden.

Word Count: 1004

The Signs of Destruction

Second Earth

Andy smiled easily at Mark as the Acolyte came into the room.

"Hey Mark."

"Huh? Oh, right. Hi Andy."

Andy – or, at least, that was the name that Mark called him, turned back to his current project.

If he just waited a few moments…

"What's that project on Andy?"

'Gotcha.'

"It's not really a project. This one's just a drawing."

Mark leaned over Andy's shoulder, eyeing the picture of a robot. It looked kind of like one of Mark's own designs, but with a few extras. It was all so detailed too!

"I didn't know you could draw," Mark commented.

"Oh, I don't really. I just had this thing in my mind. I thought maybe we could work on this one together?" Andy suggested.

Mark smiled.

"Sounds like fun," he replied, not for the first time remembering that he'd never have even envisaged having this conversation with Andy Mitchell a few years ago.

Andy added a few more details to the drawing, then pulled out another piece of paper.

Mark blinked, feeling the ring on his finger give a tiny twitch.

'Not now…' a tiny part of him groaned, and Mark was surprised at how his subconscious seemed to have come to think of keeping Bobby's Journals as some kind of a chore.

Lost in thought, he almost missed the ring twitching again.

Almost.

"Er… I have to go," Mark said, backing away.

"Hm? Where to?" Andy sounded almost interested.

"Little boy's room!" Mark cried, rushing out the room. The door slammed behind him. Mr. Pike looked up. Andy shrugged.

"Must've really needed to go," he excused the Acolyte, then glanced at the time.

"I'd better be going too, actually. Gotta get to my job."

Mark darted down the hall; the ring was expanding, he could feel it, and there was too little time left to get to the bathroom.

Empty classroom.

Perfect.

Yanking the ring off his finger, Mark threw it, skidded to a halt, and shut the door to the classroom.

The light and music started.

Outside the room.

At his feet, in fact.

It was times like this that really, really made Mark wish that he were more physically coordinated. Maybe then, the ring would be inside the room, free to transport through Bobby's latest Journal, instead of out here, in the open.

No time to slide it under the door or anything, the ring was too big now, and the music was getting louder.

"Mark?"

Mark whirled, still running on adrenaline.

"Huh-? Andy?"

Andy smirked, an almost sinister look which instantly reminded Mark of just how many times Andy had beaten him up in the other teen's former life as a bully.

"What's the matter there Mark? Thought you needed to go to the loo?"

"I-I-I-"

The music was getting louder.

"I dropped my discman!" Mark managed to yell out, and had he been a little more relaxed at that point, he may have noticed that he'd managed to lie with stuttering.

Andy raised an eyebrow, and Mark did his best to act like it was the truth.

"Is that what's making the light there too Mark?"

Mark nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Interesting discman-"

The sound got louder, echoing around the corridor, and Andy just smiled, a move that didn't reach his eyes. The journal fell to the ground with a slight thunk noise behind Mark, but he didn't dare turn around and pick it up.

"-to create a wormhole that transports matter through both time and space. I'm pretty sure they don't do that generally."

Andy was walking forward, and Mark found himself starting to back away, like he'd done since he was five whenever he'd seen, heard, or sometimes even smelt Andy coming. Annoyed with himself, he stopped it. He wasn't afraid of Andy anymore! Andy was his friend, there was nothing to fear.

Right?

Mark's back hit the wall.

Andy was standing right in front of him now, eyes flashing. Literally flashing. They actually looked kind of… blue?

Lightning flashes of blue.

Mark's eyes went wide.

"You're-"

Saint Dane ducked down for a moment, retrieving the leather-bound papers. Or, at least, it looked like it was leather. Knowing the sorts of places that Bobby had a habit of ending up in, it could be anything.

"Go on. Read it."

A grin was practically plastered across Saint Dane's face now as he waved the Journal in front of Mark's face.

Shaking, Mark reached out, and plucked the Journal from Saint Dane's grasp.

Hesitated.

"Read!"

Mark opened the – for lack of a better word here – book. He blinked a few times, wanting to clean his glasses – they'd fogged up suddenly, and Mark wasn't sure whether it was because he's been running or because Saint Dane – Saint Dane! – was standing in front of him.

"Read it!"

Saint Dane sounded impatient, and Mark almost fancied that he could see the edges of his disguise slipping. Probably just his imagination though.

"I can't see," he replied stubbornly, stalling for time. Was this really happening? Was this happening to him, Mark, of all people, having the most evil being in all the universe alive, standing in front of him, and ordering him to read Bobby's latest Journal… It was… well… scary.

Grabbing onto the front of Mark's shirt with one hand – no chance of escape, Mark noted absently – Saint Dane yanked the glasses off of Mark's face, and made a show of polishing them carefully.

Mark glared through suddenly blurry eyes. Strangely, as Andy- Saint Dane! this was insane, really, it was, had to be some sort of bad dream – replaced the glasses, Mark's vision was still a little blurry.

Mark was… Mark was crying?

'Oh bloody-'

Mark's next thought was cut off, as Saint Dane grabbed his head, and directed it towards the paper.

"Read."

Mark looked down at the pages once more. Read the first line in his head, then stopped.

There was blood on the first page… and the handwriting wasn't Bobby's.


End file.
